End of a Bloodline
by feralshal
Summary: A Snape POV fic - as the war with Voldermort draws to a close, Snape must deal with the loss of the last member of a certain family


                                    **END OF A BLOODLINE**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters in this fanfiction. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place in Harry's seventh year, and is told in first person Snape's POV. And before you flame me, I love Draco but this is something that my muse hit me with and I had to write it.

I stalk into the hospital wing. The battle is raging on outside, but I no longer care. I had to come and make sure…I had to know…

I must admit, Dumbledore's idea was a good one. Every member of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was enchanted so that as soon as they fell unconscious – or worse – they would be teleported to the Hospital wing. He insisted that every pupil should be granted this privilege, no matter which side they or their families happened to be on. Just as well, really…

I approach two beds, and regard their occupants. Both seventeen year old boys, and yet they couldn't be more different. One has dark hair, one has white-blond. One has green eyes, the other has grey. One is a Gryffindor; the other belongs to my own House, Slytherin. But these distinctions do not bother me any more. The one distinction that matters most is this:

_One of them will never wake up._

And the worst part is, it's my fault.

His father was given the Dementor's kiss just over a month ago. I suppose I should have known he would turn to me. After all, after his father I was the only person he had. I was the only person to take the time to help him survive the next year. All of his opinions, all of his ambitions, had been built around earning this one man's pride – and now this one man was dead. So I guided him as best I could, and in time he came to see me as a second father. Perhaps this is why this hurts so much…

I am shaken from my thoughts by Granger and Weasley running into the room. I try my best to shield the second bed from view as Potter stirs and regards his friends. Granger speaks first. "Oh Harry! We were so worried about you!"

"What's happening? Why are you here?" Typical Potter, acting all heroic. Weasley seems to falter in his reply. "We…we thought we should come and see if you were okay."

"And the battle?"

"We seem to be winning. There are very few Death Eaters left fighting."

I turn away as Granger relays the current situation to her famous friend. I immediately wish I hadn't. He is lying there, as though asleep, but he will never wake. I find myself brushing my hand across his cheek. My attention is drawn again when I hear Weasley speak.

"Mind you, I don't know what Malfoy was trying to achieve by knocking you out."

"Perhaps he was trying for something worse." Trust Granger to see the worst. But it is Potter's words that anger me most.

"Maybe he just forgot about the teleport system and hoped he could try and kill me."

I cannot contain my rage. Before I quite realise it, I have turned around and am snapping "Or perhaps he did it to _stop you being killed."_

A silence falls over the trio. I continue to drive home the point. "Maybe he didn't want to see you rush headfirst into a group of Death Eaters. Maybe he thought it was better for you to come here unconscious rather than dead." I speak in a sort of calm anger. Potter looks stunned, Granger looks confused and Weasley looks unconvinced. "That's what he calls it."

"We will never know what he calls it!" I cannot help but yell this last remark. Granger walks around to the other bed and lets out a gasp. Weasley follows and places a hand on the girl's shoulder. Potter watches them. "What is it?"

I move away from the bed for him to see. He just stares. None of them seem to know what to say. Finally Weasley finds his voice. "Was it…was it the Killing Curse?"

I nod, unable to speak. What is it to them how exactly he died? What is it to them that it should be me there? He was no more than an annoyance to them, or if he was it was as someone to be avoided at all costs.

We are interrupted by Dumbledore walking in. "It is over," he says. "Voldermort is dead."

"Really? As in properly dead? As in never coming back dead?" The dead boy seems to have been forgotten as Granger clings to this better news. Dumbledore nods. "There will be a special feast for all those who managed to survive."

I have to fight back my emotion at this. The headmaster calls for the nurse. "Madam Pomfrey, would it be possible for young Mr Potter to attend the feast tonight?"

"Certainly. He is not hurt at all, he was just knocked out."

"Very well. Harry, why don't you, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger go and find your friends. They should all be in the Gryffindor common room." I know that Dumbledore is looking for a chance to talk to me. As the three children leave and Madam Pomfrey moves to tend to another patient, the headmaster moves to look at the dead boy. "What happened, Severus?"

So I tell him. I tell him how I watched the young Malfoy knock out Potter to stop him charging a group of Death Eaters. I explain how the Death Eaters turned on me when I didn't stop him. And then I explain…

As long as I live I will never forget his gesture. He must have taken the blast of at least three Avada Kedavra's, which gave me a change to retreat and find others on my side. He willingly gave up his life so that I could fight on. Why, I will never know…

Dumbledore places a hand on my shoulder and I realise that for the first time in a long while, I am crying. Tears roll down my cheeks as I gaze at the young body lying unmoving before me. I hear a familiar, gentle voice in my ear. "He admired you, Severus. As with his father, he would have done anything to protect you. And when it came down to it, he probably saved Harry's life too."

"Not that the brat is grateful for it!" The previous conversation is still fresh in my mind.

"They are struggling to understand, Severus. Mr Malfoy has never exactly seemed to have their best interests at heart."

I have stopped listening. I have moved to sit next to the body. Though I know it will do no good, I speak anyway.

"Your father would have been proud of you, Draco. And I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me tonight."

I know Dumbledore is still watching. He speaks up. "Severus, I think you should come to the feast. He would have wanted you to."

He turns and walks out. I know what he is doing – he has given his advice, but is leaving the final decision to me. I know deep down that he is right, so I lean down and kiss the boy's forehead. His skin is like ice. I stand up and leave – but I do not go directly to the hall.

I head down to my potions classroom. My eyes fall on his regular seat – how I will hate any child who takes that place from now on. My best pupil in a long while is gone and none shall replace him. I still remember that look in his eyes, all those seven years ago, when he took his first potions lesson. He seemed so eager, so keen to prove that he was capable. I knew even then that he had potential.

I sigh as I resign myself to heading for the feast. I reach the main doors, where children pour into the Great Hall chattering amongst themselves. Many of our old students are in attendance, having returned to help us in the final battle. I hesitate, uncertain as to whether or not I wish to walk down the length of the hall to reach my seat. Behind me I hear a familiar voice whisper "Severus?"

"Minerva." I do not turn round. I notice my colleague stand next to me.

"Dumbledore just told me about Mr Malfoy. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"Did he tell you it should have been me?"

"You can't beat yourself up over that, Severus. No-one could have stopped him if that was what he really wanted. You know how stubborn the Malfoys always were."

'Always were'. At these words, a new thought strikes me. Now that Draco has died, the name of Malfoy will be just a memory. Never again will we see a Malfoy. Professor McGonagall looks at me as though the same thought had just occurred to her. "At least he will be remembered better than his father."

I nod, still hesitant about walking in. I feel the transfigurations teacher's hand on my arm. "Come on, Severus. At least celebrate his memory."

I sigh and allow myself to be led into the hall. I notice that it is decorated in Slytherin colours – clearly Dumbledore is paying tribute to my lost House member. As the feast goes on, I hear many mentions of Draco's name. I reflect on how strange it is that his death has achieved what he always wanted in life. I notice that on the wall behind the Slytherin table, there is a silver plaque. As people start to leave, I go over and read it. The words bring tears to my eyes.

_Draco Severus Lucius Malfoy_

_1980-1997_

_Through his death, he has earned the respect he always wished for in life._


End file.
